


Arabian Nights

by Zara_Zee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Bottom Dean, Genie Castiel, Homophobic Language, Humor, M/M, Movie Star Dean Winchester, Pregnancy Complications (Jess), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zara_Zee/pseuds/Zara_Zee
Summary: World-famous action-movie-star Dean Winchester is shooting his latestWashington Fordmovie on location in Istanbul, Turkey.The nation’s rising political tensions have Dean worried—well, they have his little brother (and New-York-based human rights lawyer) Sam worried, and if Sam is worried, Dean is worried.Dean is also dealing with a recent break-up, an asshole co-star, and he’s internally debating the relative merits of coming out publicly too. Also? He doesn’t want to miss the birth of Sam and Jess’s first kid, due in a few weeks.Still, whatever life throws at him, Dean’s confident he can take it in his stride; but a magic Genie lamp? With a real life, incredibly sexy, wish-offering Genie called Castiel?Dean must’ve hit his head harder than he thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Written for the 2018 SPN Reversebang. I don't own these characters, I've merely misappropriated them for fun, not profit._

__

_“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. Welcome to Istanbul Ataturk Airport. Local time is 3.40pm, on Tuesday, June 9 th, 2015, and the temperature is a warm and sunny 21 degrees Celsius. For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Fasten Seat Belt sign is switched off and the airplane comes to a complete stop…”_

A complete stop. Yes. Please. Dean takes a shallow, shuddering breath.

The studio stumped up the money for first class tickets; thank _Christ_ , because Dean Winchester—A-List action-adventure movie-star, all round badass, and the heart-throb voted Sexiest Man Alive by _People_ Magazine, not once, not twice, but _three_ times—is terrified of flying. And when he says _terrified_ , he means the teeth-clenched, hands-gripping-the-arm-rests, humming-Metallica-under-his-breath-to-keep-himself-from-crying kind of terrified. Airplanes are clearly supernatural. He’s positive that the only way the metal lumbering giants manage to stay airborne is due to some kind of black magic voodoo. Or maybe they’re possessed by infernal demons of the winged variety. Either way, Dean is a staunch believer that a man’s feet are supposed to stay firmly on the ground when he’s travelling; or at least no further off it than the floor of a motor vehicle.

If Dean had his way (and frankly he usually does; being an A-list movie star _does_ have its advantages) he would only ever travel to movie shoots via Chevrolet Impala.  More specifically, his very own black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Unfortunately, this particular movie is being partly filmed on location in Istanbul and Dean hasn’t yet figured out a way to make Baby drive on water. He’s quietly convinced, though, that if any car could, it would be Baby.

Truth be told, Dean’s unhappy to be arriving in Istanbul for a number of reasons, and not just because he can’t drive there from Manhattan. For starters, his little brother Sam and his sister-in-law Jessica are expecting their first baby in two months and Dean really wants to be there when the baby’s born. Not in the room or anything; that would be weird, but he’d like to be pacing outside in the waiting area, there to hug his brother when he walks out of the delivery suite a first-time father.

On top of that there’s been civil unrest in Turkey lately. The Kurdish-Turkish conflict seems to be ramping up again and Sam (who works as a human rights lawyer for the UN and is based in New York) had been concerned about Dean coming here. Dean doesn’t really understand the conflict, but he knows there’s been rumblings about ISIS involvement and he knows the Studio had been warned against shooting on location, had been told that despite the approval of the Turkish government, they might face ‘reprisals’ if they go ahead with their plans to film in the grounds of the _Sokollu Mehmed Pasha_ Mosque.

Dean would’ve pulled out of the movie, only it’s the second in the _Washington Ford_ trilogy and he’s under contract to complete all three, so his hands are somewhat tied.

Also, he’s just been through a messy, painful break-up…actually, no…that’s probably one of the few reasons why getting away right now is a _good_ thing.

First class, means Dean is one of the first off the plane. He’s whisked briskly through customs and immigration and out into a waiting limousine, sunglasses and baseball cap firmly in place.

“Alright?” Rufus says gruffly when they’re settled.

Rufus Turner, ex-police officer, has been Dean’s bodyguard for five years now; ever since Alastair. Dean almost shudders just thinking the name. Alastair was a deranged ‘fan’ who spent four months stalking Dean, sending him dead animals and letters detailing all the ways he was going to torture Dean, turn him into a whole new creature, just as soon as he got his hands on him. Dean received the first letter (and mutilated rabbit) in May 2010 and Alastair was caught trying to break into his house in September of the same year. He’d been carrying handcuffs, chains, and a black case containing knives, acid, and various medieval instruments of torture.

He was found unfit to stand trial (having spouted some crap about being a demon, ordained by Lucifer to break the Righteous Man) and is currently permanently detained in a psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane.

Rufus is a good man. For a start, he understands that Dean is not just some vacuous pretty face in need of a big strong man to rescue him from danger. He had known Dean’s dad, from back when John Winchester had been on the force, and he and Bobby Singer (the closest thing Dean has to a father these days) were friendly acquaintances, which is how Rufus came to apply for the bodyguard job in the first place. Two elite, be-suited, secret-service-style bodyguards in succession had already quit the job, saying Dean was too hard to work with, so even though the studio wasn’t impressed by Rufus’s more advanced age or his casual laid back attire, they hired him anyway, because Dean seemed willing to listen to him.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Dean had glowered when the studio brought him in to meet Rufus, the final stage of the interview process.

“Good,” Rufus nodded. “’cause I ain’t no babysitter,” he looked Dean up and down, like a general might inspect his troops. “I used to be a cop,” he said. “And not a one of us would’ve got far without a partner to watch our back. That’s what you need. Somebody you can count on to watch your back. I ain’t here to tell you what to do, son. I’m here to keep an eye on your six while you’re doin’ it.”

To be fair, Rufus frequently _did_ tell Dean what to do, but Dean mostly trusted him to be right, and he knew that if he disagreed about some detail of his security arrangements, Rufus would listen to him.

“ _Dean_?” Rufus’s voice is a little sharper this time and it brings Dean back to the present.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I’m good.”

And then belies the assertion by opening up the limo’s mini bar and helping himself to the bottle of Johnny Walker Gold Label Reserve.  He pours himself a tumbler and then lifts a second tumbler and raises it at Rufus.

“Nah,” Rufus says. “I’m on duty. Besides, if it ain’t Blue Label, it ain’t worth drinkin’.”

Dean shrugs and then guns the whole glass. He barely tastes it, just relishes the burn. He pours himself another triple shot and sips at it slowly.

“Fucking hate flying,” he mutters to Rufus, who just laughs and tells him to suck it up.

The studio has them staying at The White House Hotel, in a two bedroom suite. The décor is a little too ornate and ostentatious for Dean’s tastes; he’d have preferred to stay at the Radisson, but the White House is in the heart of the Faith district, so it’s a lot closer to the area where they’ll be shooting.

They’ve barely settled in when the room phone rings and they’re summoned to a meeting by Marv Messenger’s PA, Hannah.

After thirteen hours on an airplane, plus another hour clearing customs and immigration, driving to and getting checked into the hotel, what Dean really wants right now is a shower and a nap, not necessarily in that order. But when the Director summons you, you go.

“Dean,” Marv spreads his arms wide when Dean enters the conference room and Dean allows himself to be subjected to a hug and a pat on the back.

“Marv,” he says, dredging up his million watt movie-star smile. “Good to see you again.”

He greets Pam next. Pamela Barnes is playing Magnolia Capshaw, a lounge singer who becomes his love interest and side-kick in the film’s adventure. Dean’s worked with her before and she’s always a good time. She hugs him and squeezes his ass with a filthy laugh.

“Lookin’ good, Winchester,” she says.

“You’re a naughty girl, Pam,” he admonishes. “I think I might have to eat a lot of onion and garlic before our first kissing scene.”

Gordon Walker makes a derisive noise and Dean turns to him with a very obviously fake smile.

“Walker,” he says, with a nod.

“Winchester,” Walker returns the nod.

Gordon Walker is playing his nemesis, a rival archaeologist called Sterling Belloq who doesn’t respect local cultures and customs and is only interesting in pillaging artefacts for his own material gain.

It’s great casting as Walker is a self-centered asshole who’s only interested in his own material gain. Also, Dean already hates him, so the acting won’t be a stretch.

At a studio party not long after Dean’s first box office smash hit, Dean had indulged in an indiscreet hook-up in the venue’s rest room. Gordon had seen him and his hook up coming out of a toilet cubicle, and Dean had had his work cut out for him, convincing Gordon that when you were drunk-as-fuck one mouth sucking your dick felt very much like another. He’d then dated Cassie Robinson very publicly and visibly until it became painfully obvious to her that Dean wasn’t interested in having sex with her—or any other woman—and she kicked him to the curb. She’d been nice about it though, and given that Dean’s star was just starting to rise and she was a journalist, that could’ve gone a whole other way.

After Cassie, there was a succession of Playboy models, nothing serious and nothing that lasted for too long. Dean always made sure to dump them (nicely) before they got suspicious.

And then there was Lisa. Dean actually fell in love with Lisa, and he loved her son Ben like he was his own. But loving her still didn’t make her sexually attractive to him and even though he really _really_ tried to make it work, eventually he’d had to come clean with her. They’d cried together and angsted about what to do for the best, and then Alastair came along and Dean figured that if he was going to be a target for nutjobs, it would be far better if he lived alone.  It was also an easy out. In the media, his break with Lisa was blamed solely on the Alastair affair, which worked out well for Dean.

He still loves Lisa and Ben. He still supports them financially and he still spends time with them, but he and Lisa aren’t dating. In fact, she’s dating a doctor now. Dean would like to hate him on principle, but Matt’s actually a nice guy.

After Lisa, he dated Lydia, who turned out to be a disaster—she kept trying to stick holes in his condoms, and the whole thing put him off even _trying_ to date women. He even considered hiring himself a girlfriend, but that just seemed tacky.

He met Fergus Crowley at a private party thrown by a mutual friend. Crowley was a hugely successful stockbroker and property magnate, who was sickeningly, stupidly rich and very unhappily married. Unhappy, he told Dean, on account of the fact that he preferred to drive stick, but high society (and his daddy) insisted he have a pretty trophy wife instead. Against Dean’s better judgement, they had a clandestine affair, which was passionate, messy and constantly on the verge of imploding, and it ended nastily. Dean’s still half convinced the whole thing’s going to blow up very publicly in his face and it would really suck for Dean’s sexuality to be called into question again when he’s working with Gordon Walker.

The two other people in the room are Gordon Walker’s bodyguard (a be-suited, secret service type who eyes Rufus with barely disguised distain) and Mike Kubrick, who’s playing Walker’s side-kick, Groo Massee.

“So,” Marv says pompously. “Let’s get down to brass tacks.”

Dean and Gordon both roll their eyes. The fact that Director Marv Messenger is a douchebag is something they _do_ agree on.  

Marv tells them that the US Embassy and the Turkish Ministry of Culture and Tourism are both right behind the filming of this movie. Unfortunately, ISIS doesn’t approve and threats have been made. But the US Embassy and the Turkish government have everything under control, so there’s nothing to worry about.

Beside Dean, Rufus snorts, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Security Suit.

The threats aren’t going to stop them though. They’re going to start filming tomorrow, as scheduled and the Turkish government is going to provide extra security.

By the time Marv finishes briefing them on everything, it’s time for supper. Dean is too tired to deal with autograph hunters and fans wanting to take selfies with him, so he invites Pam to join him and Rufus in their suite for a room service supper.

The next couple of hours are laid back and fun. Dean likes Pam and he appreciates her vivacious take on life. She’s flirty, but in the same inconsequential way that he is, and Dean finds himself relaxing around her.

Pam has a 5.00am call time tomorrow, because she’s still wearing her lounge singer costume in the scenes they’re going to be filming and she has a complicated hairstyle and elaborate make up to get done. Because she’s got such an early start, she heads up to her own room at about half past eight, leaving Dean to have the long, hot shower he’s been craving and then call Sam.

It’s two in the afternoon in New York and Sam is at work, so he can’t talk for too long. Dean tells Sam about the extra security the Turkish government is putting on for them, but doesn’t mention the threats—Sam’s already worked up enough about Dean being in Turkey without adding any more fuel to the fire—and he mentions that it’s nice to be working with Pam again.

“Oh yeah,” Sam says. “She was in that horror movie you made…what was it? Six or seven years ago? The one with all the psychics and demons.”

“Seven years ago, yeah. Sammy…do you think I should see if she’s interested in dating? I mean, with Gordon here…”

Sam cuts him off. “Dude, it’s not fair to date someone you have no interest in. If she’s up for a bearding arrangement, that’s one thing, but don’t go letting her think it’s real. That’s just cruel. And besides, you _know_ what I think.”

Dean sighs. His brother thinks he should come out, which is all very well for him, with his lovely wife and first baby on the way. It’s a little harder when you’re the one whose entire career could stall; who could be the target of a vicious public hate campaign.

Dean hates the fact that his sexuality is a big deal. It shouldn’t be. It should be a private thing that doesn’t matter to anyone. But he chose a career that means he doesn’t have the luxury of privacy and he understands that visibility is a big deal. If Dean had seen his own sexuality represented on screen, not as a flamboyant, limp-wristed caricature and figure of ridicule, but as a regular Joe action hero who just happened to be gay, then maybe he wouldn’t have had such a hard time accepting that part of himself.

“I guess,” he tells Sam. “But right now? I’m just not ready. Maybe if I had somebody who it was worth coming out for…”

“You’ll never meet that somebody,” Sam says gently, “if you keep dating women.”

Dean closes his eyes. He knows his brother’s right, but is it really so wrong that he doesn’t want to completely up-end his whole life?

They move on then to talk about Sam’s job, and then Jess and the pregnancy. She’s thirty weeks pregnant and the size of a house. Her feet are constantly swollen, she needs to pee every five minutes and Sam is worried sick about her. Dean tries to be a reassuring big brother, but all he really knows about pregnancy and child birth is what he’s seen on movie sets and he’s pretty sure that Hollywood gets a lot wrong. What do they even need all those pans of hot water for anyway?

Eventually, Sam has to go and Dean ends the call feeling more homesick than when he’d made it.  Washington Ford, Adventurer-cum-Archaeologist extraordinaire is a great part to play, but Dean can’t wait for the location shoot to finish up so he can head back to America and finish shooting the rest of the scenes on set at the studio.

Dean misses his brother and he wants to go home.  


	2. Chapter 2

Dean really does love playing Washington Ford. For a start he loves his costume; tan chinos with an off-white shirt, a brown leather jacket; collar turned up, brown leather hiking boots, and a brown leather Stetson—with a gun belt slung low over his hips.

Dean can’t help swaggering the moment he’s in costume and he can’t help affecting a bit of drawl either.

There are protestors outside the cordoned-off shoot, as well as fans. Dean does his best to ignore everyone and just get on with the job, in this case, running through the streets of the Faith district, holding Pam’s hand while they’re chased by a horde of men costumed in flowing robes and _zleams_ with the trailing scarf part wrapped around their heads to shield their faces. And who, for some reason that Dean’s not entirely clear on, also have a tiger with them.

 Ah, Hollywood.

While Dean was getting fitted, Macy from Wardrobe had bitched long and hard to him about the _zleams_ ; apparently they’re Moroccan, not Turkish; but Marv Messenger had insisted on them. They’re going to be shooting a scene (when they get back to America) where the horde chase Dean across a desert on horseback and Marv insisted that the trailing scarf part of the _zleams_ , would look particularly dramatic flowing out behind the hordesmen when they were galloping on horseback; authenticity be damned.

That very same lack of interest in accuracy and general Hollywood hand-wavey-ness is why the scenes at ‘the Sultan’s palace’, which Dean already shot on a movie set back home, used a replica of the _Taj Mahal_. Marv just thought the _Indian_ mausoleum looked ‘Sultany’.

After the foot-chase scene is finished, they film a couple more ‘street’ scenes and then break for lunch, flocking en masse to the craft services table. Dean mainlines coffee as if his life depends on it, helps himself to half a dozen miniature Philly cheese steak sandwiches and a couple of mini quiches, and he even manages to snag himself the last bag of sour skittles (with much obnoxious crowing.) 

Lunch done, they continue with the ‘street’ scenes, filming until late into the night.

Dean first got interested in acting through Drama Club and school productions, so it was a surprise to him when he first got into television and movies to discover that they aren’t filmed sequentially, but by location. 

They spend three days filming ‘street’ scenes and on the fourth day they change locations, and head to The Basilica Cistern, known as _Yerebatan Sarayı_ in Turkish, which means ‘sunken palace’—and it’s an apt description too. It was originally the crypt of the _Stoa Basilica_ , and when Dean had learned he was going to be filming in some ancient crypts, he’d done a little googling so he knows it was built sometime between the third and fourth centuries and that in the sixth century, some Roman emperor turned it into a cistern to store water for a bunch of palaces and other important buildings. Thankfully, it’s mostly empty of water now.

Dean has to admit, as he descends into the lantern-lit darkness of the cathedral-sized underground chamber, that it’s pretty spectacular. The ceiling is supported by hundreds of marble and granite columns, which have obviously been recycled from older buildings if the giant upside-down Medusa head at the base of one pillar is anything to go by.

The production crew are busy setting up the cameras, the sound equipment and the lighting. Grips, technicians, and set decorators are hurrying around putting the final touches on everything. 

The set decorators and prop crew have already been here for a few hours, turning the chamber into an Aladdin-style cave of wonders, and Dean is impressed by the piles of ‘treasure’ spread throughout.

“Where’d you get all this stuff?” he asks Patty, the film’s Assistant Propmaster.

“The Art Department made some of it,” she says. “And some of it we bought from local flea markets and bazaars.”

Dean spends some time hefting various items; he plays around with a be-jewelled fake sword, which Mike Kubrick will use against him later in a fight scene; runs his fingers through the soft fabric of a Persian rug and picks up a gold-colored antique oil lamp, embossed with an ornate gold filigree design and what looks like Arabic writing.

Dean holds the lamp by its handle and peers into the nozzle.

“Robin Williams? Are you in there? Can you hear me?” he stage whispers.

Patty rolls her eyes. “Really?” she says. “The man hasn’t even been gone a year. Show some respect.”

“Sorry,” Dean says. “But, you know, if there is an afterlife, I can almost imagine him in a room with purple divans and cushions and nets and everything, like Barbara Eden had in _I Dream of Jeanie._ ”

“Whatever,” Patty says. “Stop putting your grubby finger prints all over my nicely polished props.

“Sorry,” Dean says again. He lifts up the hem of his shirt and uses it to re-polish the lamp.

Almost immediately, the entire chamber starts to shake and people shout and grab at equipment and Dean falls on his ass. The lamp falls from his grip and bounces; once, twice, three times. Smoke begins to pour from its nozzle and there’s a flash of light so blinding that Dean has to cover his eyes.    

“Hello, Master,” says a deep gravelly voice. “What do you wish of me?”

I’m dead, Dean thinks. There was an earthquake and I got squashed by a falling pillar and now I’m dead.

“Master?” the voice says again, with barely disguised impatience.

Dean opens his eyes and stares in disbelief and wonder at the figure standing in front of him.

A man with messy dark hair and a five o’clock shadow, wearing harem pants in various shades and swirls of purple and a blue and gold brocade open peasant vest, is standing before him. His feet are bare. So is his chest.

He stares at Dean and when Dean just sits on his ass staring back with wide eyes and an open mouth he raises an eyebrow.

“Well?” he says and this time there’s no hiding the impatience.

“Uh, what?” Dean manages to say.

The man groans. “Why do I always get the idiots?” he pats himself on the chest. “Me genie,” he points at Dean. “You Master. You get three wishes; _three_. And no wishing for more wishes. Clear?”

Dean nods. “I think I’ve got a traumatic brain injury. I’m probably in a coma under one of the pillars.”

The…genie…let’s just go with that for the moment…the genie stares at him intently and then looks around. “Huh,” he says. “You don’t believe in magic. Interesting. What year is it?”

“2015.”

The genie’s eyes widen.  He reaches down a hand and hauls Dean to his feet, and then places two fingers on his forehead.

“Oh wow,” he says after a moment. “A lot has changed. Your mind is filled with very confusing things,” he pauses. “Bottom line? I’m real. Trapped in this lamp for all eternity, unless,” he cuts himself off with a cough. “Anyway, you rubbed my lamp; you woke me up; you set me free; I’m bound and obligated to give you three wishes.”   

Dean’s jaw drops. “Robin?” he says. “Is that you?”

The genie tilts his head and stares intently at Dean, who notes dazedly that the genie’s eyes are very blue. Not the rest of him, thankfully. Just the eyes.

“Noooo,” the genie says, elongating the word. “My name is Castiel.”

“I’m Dean,” he holds out his hand and Castiel stares at it for a moment and then takes it.

Instead of the handshake Dean was expecting, Castiel raises Dean’s hand to his lips and kisses it gently.

“Uh, what?” Dean snatches his hand back.

“Was that not right, Master?”

“No. We shake hands, man. Like this,” Dean grabs Castiel’s hand back and shakes it vigorously. “And stop calling me Master. My name’s Dean. You can call me Dean.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No Master, I don’t think I can.”

“Please? I’m not comfortable being called Master.”

Castiel stares hard at him _again_ and then draws himself up tall and says, “Okay…Dean.”

Dean punches him lightly on the arm. “Knew you could do it, Cas.”

“So about your wishes,” Castiel says.

Which is about when Dean notices that the entire film crew are frozen around him.

“What the Hell?” he splutters. “What’s going on? Why is everybody frozen? What did you do to them?”

“I froze time when I came out of my lamp. You and I are existing outside of time right now.”

Dean’s jaw drops again. “Wow,” he says. “Phenomenal cosmic powers,” he looks at the lamp. “Itty bitty living space.”

Castiel inclines his head. “I do indeed have phenomenal cosmic powers; however, my living space is not small.  My lamp is dimensionally transcendental; the interior exists in a different, relative dimension to the exterior, which means it's bigger on the inside than the outside.”

“Right,” Dean says. “Thank you, Dr Who.”

“ _Castiel_ ,” the genie says. “And you’re welcome. But I am not a doctor.”

“Right,” Dean says again. “So d’you think you could unfreeze time now, let these people get on with their lives?”

“I could do that,” Castiel agrees. “But first we should take care of your wishes.”

Dean shakes his head. “I know how this shit works,” he says. “I’ve seen the movie.  Several actually. And the wishes always go bad or don’t turn out the way the wisher wanted.”

Castiel looks hugely affronted. “I assure you that wishes granted by me, do not ‘go bad’. And I take great care to ensure that I thoroughly understand the wisher’s intent.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean allows. “But I can’t just come up with three wishes on the spot; I have to think about it. So can you just unfreeze everyone and, I dunno, maybe hide or whatever, because, we’ve got a lot of extra security here and you don’t have a security pass, so you really shouldn’t be here. Also? Dressed like that? You’re probably gonna get arrested for prostitution or something.”

Dean isn’t quite sure what to make of the look that comes over Castiel’s face. The genie reaches out and touches the side of Dean’s head. Dean feels a gentle buzzing and then Castiel says, “I shall await you in your hotel suite.”

And then both he and the lamp vanish, but Dean doesn’t have much time to be astonished, because in the next instant everything unfreezes and people are once again grasping at cameras and boom microphones to steady them.

“Omigod!” says Patty. “Was that an earthquake? Did we just have an earthquake?” 

“I guess,” Dean says.

The security team decides it’s best if everyone evacuates until the site can be determined safe, and Dean spends a little while browsing the craft services table with Rufus and then gets told to go to the wardrobe trailer, they’re  calling it a day because one of the cameras was damaged in the ‘earthquake’.

Dean changes back into his own clothes, and wipes off his makeup, and then he, Pam, Rufus, and a woman called Jodie who is part of the general studio security team head back to the hotel in one of the limousines.

Dean practically sprints out of the elevator and down the corridor into his suite. He bursts through the door into the suite’s living area and…there’s no sign of either Castiel or the lamp.

Dean’s not going to lie; he’s a little disappointed, but not actually all that surprised. Magic Genie lamps. Really?  He must’ve hit his head when he fell. That makes a lot more sense than a magic genie lamp. It’d seemed so real though.

“You okay, son?” says Rufus. “You ran in here like you had Angelina Jolie waiting naked on your bed for you.”

Dean flushes. “I, uh, bathroom,” he stutters.

He hurries into his bedroom, shuts the door and leans against it with his eyes closed.

The thought of Angelina Jolie naked on his bed does nothing for him. The idea of _Castiel_ naked on his bed though? That’s a whole other story; one he ought not to go anywhere near.

There’s a fluttering noise and Dean opens his eyes to find Castiel standing right in front of him. The relief drives the air from his lungs like a sucker punch.

“Dude,” he says, turning his head sideways, away from those tempting lips and intense eyes, “personal space.”

Castiel frowns and takes a step back and that’s when Dean notices what he’s wearing and his mouth falls open.

“What the Hell?” he says.

Castiel looks down at himself. “Is this not appropriate attire? I replicated the clothing that was worn by the male visitor to this hotel who garnered the most respect from the hotel staff.”

Dean’s eyes bug out. “You might wanna try something a little more casual. I’m not sure whether you’re supposed to be Colombo or a tax accountant.”

A tiny vee appears in between Cas’s eyes. “I don’t understand those references,” he says.

Dean huffs. “Try ‘replicating’ what I’m wearing instead.”

There’s a brief shimmer and then Castiel is standing before him wearing exactly the same jeans, boots and ACDC band tee-shirt as Dean.

Dean snorts. “And now we look like a couple of junior high girls who co-ordinated our outfits before school.”

Dean crosses to his wardrobe and opens it. “Change the color of the jeans to this color,” he holds out the leg of a lighter blue pair of jeans.

Castiel complies.

“And try a _different_ band tee-shirt.”

Castiel inclines his head and looks so generally helpless and confused that Dean just grabs his Metallica tee-shirt out of the wardrobe and shoves it at him.

“Oughta fit,” he says.

Castiel stares at the black material in his hands and then looks up at Dean, his eyes telegraphing his uncertainty.

“Put it on,” Dean urges.

Castiel waves a hand and vanishes the tee-shirt he’s wearing and Dean only stares at his toned torso a little bit. He probably would’ve stared a bit more, but then Cas is struggling into Dean’s tee-shirt with the awkwardness of someone who’s never had to do it before and Dean can’t help finding it endearing.

He’s not going to lie; the sight of Castiel wearing his tee-shirt gives him a tingly feeling that he would really like to explore further, but he’s not sure how genies feel about that kind of thing.

“Looks good,” he compliments.

Cas smiles tentatively. “The coarse material of these trousers feels uncomfortable against my genitals.”

Dean very nearly chokes on his own tongue.

He supposes it makes sense that Castiel wouldn’t replicate what he couldn’t see.

“Dude, you need underwear,” he says when he can speak again.

Castiel looks confused, so Dean unzips his jeans and peels them down over one hip to show him.

Castiel peers closely at his underwear. “Ah,” he says. And waves a hand.

Before Dean can pull his jeans back up, Rufus calls out his name and pushes his bedroom door open.

“Dean? Who are you…Oh.”

Rufus stands in the doorway looking thunderstruck, glancing between Dean and Castiel.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean says.

Rufus meets his eyes. “Really? Because it looks like you’re showing another man your tighty whities.”

Dean huffs. “Okay, it is what it looks like, but…” he can’t think of a way to finish the sentence which doesn’t make him sound like he’s lost his mind.

Rufus is wearing a very serious expression and Dean swallows.

“Dean…I don’t care,” he nods at Castiel. “If that’s what does it for you, then good for you. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Okay, son?”

Castiel leans forward. “This man is your father?”

“No. He’s my bodyguard. And a good friend,” he clears his throat. “Thanks Rufus.”

“And this young man is?”

Castiel opens his mouth, but Dean stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “This is Castiel. Castiel, this is Rufus.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir,” Castiel says.

Rufus nods. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

When Rufus has gone, Castiel turns questioning eyes to Dean. “He believes we are lovers?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Seemed easier than trying to explain that you’re a genie.”

Castiel goes and sits on the edge of the king-sized, ornate ‘Sultan’ bed.  “And do you _wish_ that of me?” he says. “Do you _wish_ for me to be your lover?”

Dean’s mouth goes dry. “No,” he says. “I think you’re attractive, but you told me earlier that you’re _obligated_ to grant your master’s wishes and that ain’t consent, man.”

“I have fulfilled such wishes before,” Castiel says. “For both masters and mistresses. If you _wish_ it, I can be yours.”

Dean shakes his head.  “No. Not if you’re obligated. I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be real.”

“So what _do_ you _wish_?”

Dean shrugs. “I don’t know.”

And it’s true. He’s a movie star. He has fame and fortune; his material needs are met in every way possible. The things he wants; for himself, for the world, he’s not sure if wishing for them would even work. He wishes for the world to be free from racism, sexism and homophobia. He wishes for it to be free from poverty. He wishes there was no disease and that everyone was able-bodied. But he’s scared that wishing to change fundamental (albeit horrible) parts of the human condition could have unforeseen consequences. He knows the story of the man who wished for world peace and every being on Earth lost their voices and their hearing.

Besides, Dean isn’t really all that comfortable with the idea of wishes. He would rather earn the things he wants than be handed them on a silver platter.

“Can I take my time to decide?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods. “But be aware that if someone else rubs my lamp in just the right way, they will become my master instead.”

Dean picks the lamp up and locks it in the room safe.

“Huh,” says Castiel. “Good move. So. What now?”

Dean shrugs. “Wanna watch TV with me?”


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few weeks Dean learns a number of interesting things about Castiel.

He learns that he can fly; he learns that he can transport himself rapidly from place-to-place by travelling in the space between dimensions; he learns that he can absorb the language of any person he stands close to, and that he can communicate with his master telepathically; and he learns that Cas can make himself invisible.

This last ability enables him to accompany Dean on his location shoots, which he does most days, and the telepathy means that when Dean is hanging around waiting for camera angles to be set up or for other people to finish scenes that he’s not in, he has someone to talk to.

Cas is frequently clueless and often funny and Dean has taken to keeping his cell phone out and his headphones in so that he won’t look like a crazy man every time he laughs out loud.

Even better, Cas has taken a dislike to Gordon Walker, after Gordon made one too many snide comments about Dean, and he now delights in making Gordon’s things disappear and magically pulling his feet out from under him.

In the evenings, they mostly just relax in Dean’s hotel room, enjoying the five-star room service, but on several memorable occasions, Castiel completely changed the way Dean looked so that they could go out in public without Dean being recognized and swamped by fans. Being able to hang out as just a regular guy again is wonderful. It’s not something he _wished_ for either, just something that Cas did because he could and he didn’t deem it a big enough deal to constitute a _wish_. 

Castiel is a huge fan of the modern era; last time he was out of his lamp it was the eighteenth century; and on the days when he doesn’t join Dean on set, he wanders the city, soaking up knowledge, or he stays in the hotel room watching television and browsing the internet. Castiel is learning facts fast and he’s learning pop culture too, but he doesn’t always _understand_ it. Then again, Dean doesn’t always understand the memes that his half-brother Adam shows him and Castiel is an ancient being from a very different culture, so for him to be slow on the pop-culture uptake is probably fair enough.

Overall, Castiel is interesting to talk to and even more interesting to listen to. He has a wealth of fascinating stories and Dean listens with rapt attention to his tale of the time he was called upon to grant three wishes to Cleopatra, Pharaoh of Egypt:  “She was a smart woman. A clever strategist. Marc Antony was a mistake though. I told her that. But she went ahead and wished for him anyway.”

They’re lounging together on Dean’s bed, having just watched the _Cleopatra_ remake where Dean played Marc Antony.

“You are far better looking that Marc Antony,” Cas remarks, almost as an afterthought.

Dean swallows. Cas is staring intently at him again and it’s making his stomach swoop with want.

And what he wants, he can’t have.

Cas seems to be trying to bore through Dean’s eyes into his soul and it makes Dean reckless.

“Cas,” he says, “not for nothing, but the last time someone looked at me like that...I got laid.”

“Do you _wish_ for that with me?” Cas asks, and Dean is probably just imagining the hopeful tone in his expression.

It’s probably just _wishful_ thinking. Hah.

“No,” Dean says. “Like I told you before, if it was a wish, it wouldn’t be real.”

“You could wish for it to be real,” Cas says.

Dean frowns. “But it wouldn’t _really_ be real. I don’t want anything with anyone who doesn’t want it with me.”

Cas stares at him for a long time and Dean can almost see the cogs turning over in his mind.

It’s not just the wish thing that’s a problem, though. There’s also the fact that according to genie lore, Dean is Cas’s master until Dean gets his three wishes, and Dean just isn’t sure what he might do out of some misguided feeling of obligation. Also? Dean tries to be a good guy, he really does, but if Cas tells him, right now, that he wants to sleep with him of his own free will, Dean isn’t sure he’ll have the willpower to say no.   

He clears his throat and saves them both a lot of potential angst. “Cas, I think you should sleep in your lamp tonight.”

Cas’s bright happy eyes go dull. “Yes, master,” he says.

And promptly disappears.

Goddamit. Now Cas is upset.

Dean changes into his pajamas, cleans his teeth, and his bedroom door bursts open and four armed men in black robes, with scarves wrapped around their heads and faces, run into his room with their guns drawn. One of them is carrying a video camera.

“On your knees, Dog,” one of them says, in what sounds to Dean like a strong British accent.

Dean gapes. He’s not sure who these guys are or how they got into the hotel. “Where’s Rufus?” he demands.  “Did Gordon put you up to this? Is this a prank?”

The man nearest to him steps forward and slaps his face, which means it’s probably not a prank. Dean swallows as he remembers Sam telling him that the man in charge of making ISIS’s propaganda beheading videos was an English ex-pat, who’d gone abroad to join the terrorist group. Oh God. He hopes they haven’t hurt Rufus.

“On your knees.  You were warned not to come here. Now we will make a movie of your death for everyone to see.”

One of the other men draws a curved sword and Dean very nearly pisses himself. Oh fuck. It _is_ the propaganda beheading guy. They’re going to kill him and put it online and Sam will probably have to watch it because of his job. Dean doesn’t want to die, especially not like this, so he does the only thing he can.

_Cas_ , he thinks. _I wish for you to come out here and save my life._

The words, _done master_ , reverberate inside his head and a moment later there’s a resounding _boom!_ When Dean opens his eyes (when did he close them?) the terrorists are all hog-tied and unconscious on the floor.

Also in the room is one extremely wrathful genie, looking for all the world like some kind of avenging angel.    

“Are you alright, Dean?” Cas says, moving right into Dean’s personal space.

“Yeah. Thanks to you.”

And then, because Cas is so close, because the genie just saved his life and Dean figures you get a pass for life and death moments, he pulls him into a tight hug.

Cas stands limply at first and then brings his arms up and hugs Dean just as fiercely.

“C’mon,” Dean says, breaking away finally. “Gotta make sure Rufus is okay.”

Rufus is okay. In fact he’s just starting to come around from a blow to the head when Dean rushes into the living room.

“Dean?” Castiel says. “It would be best if this never happened. I shall wipe Rufus’s memory and I shall dump the terrorists far away from here with no memory of what occurred.”

“You’ll what?” says Rufus, rubbing at the back of his head.

“Good idea,” Dean says.

He wasn’t looking forward to trying to explain who Cas was, how he did what he did, and why he was in Dean’s bedroom to the Turkish police.

The whole process of mind-whammying and getting rid of the terrorists only takes about ten minutes and then Dean and Cas are once again standing in Dean’s bedroom staring at each other in a way that Dean’s buddy, country music star Chris Kane, would definitely call _eye fucking_.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean hopes Cas can hear the heartfelt sincerity in his voice.

“You have two wishes left,” Cas replies, his voice utterly void of emotion.

Dean nods.

“I’ll return to my lamp, as you instructed earlier.”

“Wait!” Dean says, before Cas can disappear.

Cas waits, his expression one of polite query.

“Will you…stay?”

“Do you _wish_ it?”

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t want to be alone right now, but, it’s not an official wish. I’d like you to stay, but it’s your choice. You can go back to your lamp if you’d prefer.”

Cas stares intently at him. Again.

“It is a minor matter,” he says finally. “I will stay.”

They get into bed, lying side-by-side, but not close, and Dean slowly begins to process the fact that somebody just broke into his hotel room with the intention of murdering him.

It’s a scene he’s played out scores of times, he’s even acted out his own murder before, but he’s never been attacked for real.

Holy shit.

He feels his pulse rate start to rise.

“Dean?”

He turns his head toward Castiel.

“I will protect you,” Cas says. “You wished for me to save your life, and I will continue to keep your life safe, for as long as you are my master.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Cas sighs.  “I am bending rules for you, Dean.”

“Why?”

Castiel is a long time answering. “Because you are a good man. You give of yourself to others. You don’t see the wishes as something you are entitled to, but as a responsibility to be used wisely.”

Dean chuckles. “I’m just a guy with a pretty face who plays Cowboys and Indians in front of a camera. If you wanna meet a genuine ‘good man’, you should meet my brother, Sam.”

“I would like to,” Cas says. “Very much,” he pauses for a moment and gives Dean another one of those intense looks where Dean is sure Cas can see right through to his very soul. “Don’t sell yourself short, Dean,” he says. “You _are_ a good man, whether you see it or not.”

Dean is never comfortable with people telling him he’s awesome. He’s not. He doesn’t save lives, he doesn’t make the world a better place. At most he gives people an outlet to escape the shit in their lives, but even then, hundreds of people are responsible for bringing the magic of a movie to life. It’s not fair that only a few get the accolades. 

But. Dean sighs. Castiel is looking at him so earnestly that Dean doesn’t have the heart to argue, so he smiles weakly and says thank you.

“So,” he deflects. “Who makes the rules anyway? Is there, like, a Genie High Council or something?”

The little v reappears in between Castiel’s eyes. “Uh. No,” he says. “Being a Genie is…well…it’s sort of a curse situation.”

Dean blinks. “A curse? What? But all your powers…”

Castiel scowls. “They come at a cost. I am only free of my lamp during a wish cycle; imagine, Dean, my existence is nothing more than a handful of days, strung together over centuries.  And even then, I am not truly free as I am utterly beholden to my master.”

And Dean is suddenly feeling like a complete piece of shit for ordering Cas to sleep in his lamp earlier.  He makes a mental note to never do it again.

“This time with you,” Cas adds, “is the closest thing I’ve had to a holiday since I was cursed. No-one has ever taken so long to make their first wish.”

“What if I don’t make any more wishes? Will that free you?”

Castiel shakes his head. “If the Earth travels one full cycle around the sun without a wish being made, then the wish cycle is forfeit and I return to my lamp.”

Well. Fuck.

“It is probably better,” Cas says, “if you make your remaining wishes quickly now. The longer I have this rare amount of freedom, the harder it will be to go back into my lamp.”

Dean swallows hard. “What if I wished for your freedom? Would that work?”

Castiel shrugs. “It would gain me the ultimate freedom; freedom from life itself.”

“You’d _die_?”

Castiel smiles bitterly. “The Gods are cruel.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “The… _Gods_? You were cursed by…?”

“Artemis. But really, it was all Ares’s fault.”

Dean blanches. “As in…the Greek God of War?”

Castiel nods. “You know of him?”

Dean bites at his bottom lip. “Yeah, I mean, I didn’t think he was actually real, but he’s still pretty famous.”

Castiel snorts. “That will please him. He’s an arrogant assbutt.”

Dean snickers. “Assbutt?”

Castiel inclines his head. “Is that not the right insult? He is a…douchebag. A…son of a bitch. He is a…”

Cas seems like he could go on for a while hurling insults at Ares, which is understandable, the guy… _God_ …whatever…did something that resulted in Cas being trapped in a magic lamp for all eternity, but Dean has had enough surprise visitors for one night and the last thing he wants is for Ares to appear and smite Cas for his rudeness. So he derails Cas’s litany of insults by asking why Artemis cursed him and why it was Ares’s fault.

Castiel rolls onto his back with a sigh. “I have never had a truly normal life, but when I was a child, my life was…somewhat normal. My father was a soldier; a Spartan general who enjoyed great success on the battlefield. My mother, however, was Jinn,”

Cas says the word _Jinn_ significantly, and then pauses and looks at Dean as if expecting some comment.

“Gin?” Dean says. “The only gin I know about is drunk with tonic water.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “The Jinn are very similar to humans, but we are not human. We live, we die, we eat, we procreate, but we are faster and stronger than humans and we live much longer lives. Some of us have a little magical ability.”

 Dean nods. “So Artemis had a thing against the Jinn?”

Cas shakes his head. “Not at first. She did come to despise the Jinn, but that was partly Ares’s fault. And partly mine,” Cas sighs. “Let me tell you my tale.”

Dean rolls onto his side, elbow on the mattress and his head resting on his hand. He looks expectantly at Cas, who takes a deep breath and begins to speak.

“At seven years of age, as was the custom in Sparta, I entered the _agoge_ , which is where all Spartan boys go to begin their military training.  I took after my father and soon became a well-respected soldier in my own right. By the age of sixteen, I was the best archer in Sparta, as well as a gifted swordsman and tactician. I was also considered attractive, due in part to my Jinn blood, and I found favour with both men and women; Gods as well as mortals. I had many, many lovers over the years,” he pauses. “Including Ares.”

Dean can’t help gasping and he’s completely aware that he is staring at Cas in slack-jawed, wide-eyed shock. Even _before_ getting cursed into the lamp, Cas was very far from ordinary. Part Jinn. Lover to the Gods. Wow. Cas is way, _way_ out of Dean’s league.

Castiel continues. “Ares boasted to Artemis that I was a better archer than her; a better hunter. She already disapproved of my lack of purity and so Ares spun tall tales for her about our supposed debauchery,” Cas pulls a face. “Really, all we had was a couple of quick fucks, a few hasty blow jobs and, okay, he took me to _one_ of Dionysus’s parties, which was,” Cas breaks off with a smile and goes glassy eyed for a moment. “Anyway,” he shakes his head. “Artemis sent one of her nymphs to seduce me. Arethusa. At the very last minute Arethusa told me that she wanted me, badly, but she was dedicated to Artemis,” Castiel’s lips thin. “And I must confess, Dean, I tried to convince her to break her vow of chastity, which was reckless and stupid of me.”

Castiel falls silent and Dean reaches out and rests his hand on Cas’s shoulder.

“What happened then?”

“It was a trap, of course. Artemis appeared and she was furious. She’d sent Arethusa to seduce me to see if I would respect the purity vow.  Because I tried to convince Arethusa to break her vow, Artemis said I hadn’t respected either her wishes or Arethusa’s.”

Castiel swallows. “She took my soul and she replaced it with divine grace so that I could never die, and then she bound me to the lamp for all eternity as punishment for my insolence,” Castiel closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them again, they are full of anguish. “Ares, the spineless assbutt, didn’t even try to free me. The rest, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean says gently.

The punishment far exceeds Cas’s crime, but then, as Dean understands it, the Greek Gods were renowned for being petty. And Ares’s cowardly betrayal clearly still hurts, over two millennia later. Dean may have decided to become an actor, but he shares the same passion for justice that drove Sam to become a Human Rights Lawyer.

“So how do we break the curse?” Dean asks. “How do we free you?”

But Castiel doesn’t know. What’s more, he clearly doesn’t believe he can be saved. And that, Dean will not stand for. He may only play an action hero on TV, but for Cas, he will try to be one for real. 


	4. Chapter 4

The alarm on Dean’s phone goes off and Dean opens one eye, navigates his way through turning it off and rolls over, smooshing his face back into his pillow.

“Dean,” Cas says reproachfully. “You must arise.”

Dean thinks there’s a joke in there somewhere about _rising_ in the morning, but he’s still steadfastly refusing to act on his attraction to Cas, so he’s not going to acknowledge the fact that parts of him are well and truly _risen_ this morning and Cas’s deep, gravelly voice isn’t helping matters.

“Dean,” Cas says again. “You must be on set in forty-five minutes.”

 “S’ 4 am,” Dean slurs.

“Yes it is,” Cas replies. “And you must get up. Now.”

There’s steel in his voice and Dean’s surprised to find himself turned on by the commanding tone.

“Coffee,” he croaks.

Cas sighs and conjures him a cup. The first time he did that, Dean just about sprayed the first mouthful everywhere, so thick and strong was the rich, black, unsweetened coffee. After that, Dean took Cas to one of the Starbucks in Istanbul and introduced him to the joys of the caramel macchiato.

Dean reaches for the cup with a grunt of thanks and then sits cradling it in his hands for a good five minutes, before slowly beginning to slurp it down.

Cas has conjured himself a short black, Greek style, and is sipping it quietly with a fondly bemused expression on his face.

“You awake like a bear from hibernation,” he says to Dean. “Angry, yet languid and sluggish.”

Dean’s bottom lip quirks. It’s not an inaccurate description. “Yeah, well, the way you spring awake ready to go isn’t normal.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “It is for a Spartan soldier.”

Yeah, Dean guesses it probably is. Waking up slowly probably wasn’t advisable if you were on a military campaign. It’s just so easy to forget that Cas was a soldier before he was cursed into the lamp.

“Dean?” Cas says, an unusual note of hesitation in his voice.

“Yeah?”

 “I was thinking…maybe I could come to the set today?”

Dean frowns. “You come to the set a lot, you don’t need to ask.”

There’s a long pause and then Cas says. “No. I mean…actually come. Visibly.”

“Oh,” Dean’s completely taken aback. And he’s not entirely sure why. It makes perfect sense that Cas would want to interact with the people on set who he’s come to know quite well, from watching them while he’s invisible.

“It’s okay,” Cas says. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

“No,” Dean says quickly. “It’s fine. Great even. I’ll give your name to security.”

Castiel’s smile could light up a whole room.

The sound of a fist banging on Dean’s bedroom door echoes throughout the room.

“Dean?” Rufus calls. “You decent?”

“Well I ain’t naked, if that’s what you mean.”

Rufus pushes open the door and frowns at Castiel, who has rapidly conjured himself track pants, a tee-shirt and running shoes.

“Cas,” he says. “Didn’t hear you come in last night.”

“I just arrived,” Castiel says. “I brought Dean a coffee to assist him with his early rising.”

Rufus snorts.

For all that Cas has been around continuously for weeks now, he and Rufus have only actually met four times, because, mostly, Cas has kept himself invisible to everyone but Dean. And one of those times, Cas whammied out of Rufus’s mind.

“This,” Rufus indicates both Castiel and Dean, “ain’t gonna work if you’re a morning lark. This one,” he points at Dean, “don’t like to get up until at least a few hours after the sun does.”

“Maybe our strengths and weaknesses are complementary?” Cas suggests.

Dean manages to pry his eyelids open for long enough to see that Rufus is eyeing Cas off with the sort of scrutiny he usually reserves for potential threats.

So far, on the few occasions when Cas has met Rufus, Dean has managed to divert Rufus from interrogating Cas, but if Cas is going to be a visible fixture in Dean’s life—even if it’s only for a little while—then his bodyguard is going to want _details_.

“Tell me Castiel,” Rufus says. “What is it that you do?”

“I am a gen—”

Dean nearly chokes on his coffee, but at least his coughing fit derails Cas from blithely telling Rufus that he’s a genie.

“Cas is a _geneticist_ ,” Dean says hurriedly, once he can breathe again.

Cas frowns at him. “I am _not_ a geneticist,” he says, “I am a _genealogist_ and social historian.”

Oh. That makes more sense.

“I specialize in Spartan society in general,” Cas continues, “and the Angelidis family in particular; however, I have a good overall background in classical Greek civilization and I speak classical Greek as well as several ancient regional dialects.”

Cas glances at Dean and Dean shuts his mouth with an audible snap. Cas’s lips quirk in an almost-smile.  

“Uh huh,” Rufus says. “And how did you two meet?”

Dean decides to leave that one up to Cas, because he may be an actor, but Cas is clearly an accomplished creator of fake backgrounds.

“Through Dean’s brother, Sam. I recently assisted the UN with the translation of some documents and gave them a briefing on the geographical and political history of Macedonia, in relation to the current naming dispute, and that’s how I met Sam.”

“Oh,” Rufus says. His eyes have glazed over, but he’s now completely relaxed. Cas knows Sam and appears to be a boring geek too. Rufus has classified him as ‘harmless’ and ‘no threat’—and he isn’t a threat to Dean, but he’s very far from harmless.

“Okay,” Dean says. “If you’re done interrogating my buddy, I’m gonna take a shower,” he gives Rufus a very pointed look and Rufus gets the message and leaves the room.

Dean gets out of bed, thankful that he’s wearing boxers, not briefs, because imagining Cas as a hot history professor really turned him on.

“One problem with your cover story,” Dean says. “Rufus might actually call Sam to verify that he knows you.”

Cas shrugs. “Phenomenal cosmic powers, remember?” he says, a little sourly.

Dean winces. He’d made Cas watch Disney’s _Aladdin_. Cas hadn’t been impressed by the genie.

“I can alter reality,” Cas adds. “If Rufus calls Sam, Sam will remember our meeting.”

“Is that in the rules?” Dean asks, because it seems like a lot of power to expend on something that’s not a wish.

Cas pulls a face. “I am bending them again. I am including this as part of your ‘saving your life’ wish.”

They agree that Cas will come down to the set later and Dean explains that he’s going to need ID to show to Security. He shows Cas his own passport and drivers licence and Cas studies them for a moment and then replicates them for himself, in the name of Castiel Angelidis.

 

Dean lets the head of set security know that he’s expecting a visitor and then heads to Wardrobe.

They’re currently filming the scenes which take place in the grounds of the Mosque. They have a meeting with an ‘imam’, get attacked by ‘Sterling Belloq’ and ‘Groo Massee’—Dean and Mike get to act out another epic sword fight, which is a lot of fun—and then Dean gets to take a break while Walker and Kubrick film a scene that he’s not in.

Dean, naturally, heads straight for the Craft Services Table, but detours when he sees Cas sitting with Rufus behind the sound desk. He’s wearing headphones, which Dean guesses were given to him by Harry the Sound guy.

“Hey!” he says when he’s close enough.

Cas takes off the headphones and stands to greet him and they exchange a manly bro’ hug.   

“No problems?”

“None,” Cas sounds pleased with himself. “Everyone has been very kind.”

They watch Gordon’s scene for a bit and Cas laughs loudly when Gordon falls flat on his face at a particularly serious and solemn moment.

“Did you do that?” Dean asks out of the corner of his mouth.

Cas’s only response is a wicked smile.

The cast and crew break for a late lunch and Gordon elbows his way to Cas’s side.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says.

“Castiel Angelidis,” Cas offers his hand.

“You the boyfriend?” Gordon says snidely.

“Friend, yes,” Cas replies. “I work with Dean’s brother Sam.”

Gordon’s eyes narrow suspiciously.

“Well you might wanna watch out for Pretty Boy here,” he ignores Dean’s indignant _hey_. “I reckon he’s a closet fag.”

It might just be Dean’s imagination, but the air around Cas seems to get dark and foreboding somehow.

“I see,” Cas says. “Well as I am not a homophobic douchebag, it wouldn’t bother me at all if he was. You, however, bother me greatly. I do not enjoy the company of unkind bigots.”

“I guess you’re a fag too,” Gordon sneers, before turning his back and walking away.

Gordon spends the rest of the day’s shoot needling Dean as much as he can and Dean is relieved when they film the final scene of the day, which, thankfully, Gordon isn’t in. ‘Washington’ and ‘Magnolia’ explore the grounds of the Mosque, eventually ‘finding’ a secret entrance to a tunnel. Which doesn’t actually exist and will be CGI’ed in later.

With Cas beside him to deflect trouble, Dean spends half an hour signing autographs for fans and letting them take selfies with him. Rufus and Studio Security just about have heart failure, but Dean likes to give back to his fans as much as he can and he’s been feeling vaguely guilty about his lack of availability this shoot.

Back at the hotel, they order room service, and then Cas uses Dean’s laptop to play online chess; a new discovery of his that has made him very happy.

While Cas is otherwise occupied, Dean uses his phone to research curses. You can find almost anything online, but information about how to break real curses imposed by real Greek gods is a little thin on the ground. Dean seriously doubts that bathing Cas in salt water under a full moon is going to have any effect on a curse cast by Artemis, Goddess of The Hunt.    

“Dean?”

Dean flinches. “Whoa, Cas. You move like a cat without a bell. You scared the hell outta me, man.”

“What are you doing?”

Cas has zeroed in on the screen of Dean’s phone.

Dean sighs. “I’m trying to figure out how to break your curse.”

Cas comes around and sits beside Dean on the sofa. “You shouldn’t mess with the Gods, Dean. They are truly cruel. To them, we are nothing but toys. Here for their entertainment.”

“I don’t care,” Dean says stubbornly. “You deserve to be free.”

“I am beginning to think that you care for me,” Cas says lightly.  

Dean rolls his eyes, but otherwise doesn’t dignify Cas’s comment with a response.

“So why not _wish_ for it? Why not _wish_ for me to be yours until you die?”

Dean scowls. “I already told you, Cas. If I wish for it, you’re duty bound to give it to me. That’s not real. It’s not genuine consent. I can’t be sure—”

His tirade is cut short when Cas presses his lips to Dean’s and kisses him, softly, but with a surety that Dean has never experienced before. At first, Dean doesn’t respond and then Cas starts to pull away, murmuring apologies, so Dean takes Cas’s head in his hands and hauls him back in, pouring everything he has into showing Cas how much he wants him.

Eventually though, they need air, or at least Dean does, and Cas sits back. He runs a hand across his lips and then smiles.

“Wow.”

Dean can’t help his own self-satisfied smile, nor can he help his blush. “Oh c’mon,” he says, “you’ve been kissed by Gods.”

Cas’s smile broadens. “Are you fishing for compliments, Dean Winchester?”

The look on Dean’s face clearly answers that question for him, because Cas’s smile dims a little and he takes hold of Dean’s hands, before fixing him with a very earnest look.

“The Gods are selfish lovers,” he says. “Whereas you do nothing but give of yourself to others. There is truly no comparison.” 

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that—Cas has way too high an opinion of him and he gets upset when Dean disagrees with him on the subject—so Dean settles for telling Cas that he’s tired and then stripping down to his boxers and climbing in to bed.

Cas quickly follows suit, but tonight, for the first time, Dean sleeps with Cas in his arms.

He dreams that he walks the red carpet with Cas on his arm and there’s a really annoying fan, shrilly trying to get his attention. Their voice is incredibly irritating; incessant, insistent; like the ringing of a telephone, Dean thinks hazily as he blinks awake to find his cell phone ringing. It stops and then starts again immediately. Dean reaches for it and answers with a bleary, “Hello?”

“Dean?”

“Sam?” Dean struggles into a sitting position. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Sam’s voice wobbles. “It’s Jess. I’ve just brought her into the hospital. It’s too early, she’s not due for five weeks, but she’s bleeding and she’s in a lot of pain, and…she’s with the doctor, but I just really needed to hear your voice, man.” 

Dean doesn’t think he’s ever heard his little brother sound so lost and so scared and he wants nothing more in the universe than to be with him right now, supporting him. 

“Sam, I wish I could be there with you,” he says.

Before he can get any further the words _done, master_ reverberate in his mind and there’s a loud _boom_! and everything goes black.

“What the _fuck_?” Dean hears Sam say.

He opens his eyes and he’s standing next to Sam’s car in the carpark of Mount Sinai hospital in Manhattan, wearing nothing but his boxers.

Cas is standing beside him, also in boxers, holding his lamp.

“Dean?” Sam says.

“Clothes, Cas!” Dean snaps and Cas waves a hand, clothing them both in jeans, tee-shirts, boots and jackets. A second hand wave produces a ball cap for Dean.

Sam is watching with an open mouth and narrowed eyes and Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck and tries to think of a way to explain.

“You’ve got a _genie_?” Sam squeaks.

“Um. Yes?” Dean runs a nervous tongue across his bottom lip. “How did you--?”

“Does magic,” Sam says. “Has a lamp. Not a stretch.”

“People don’t believe in magic,” Dean counters. “They rationalize it. I thought I was in a coma or something when Cas first appeared.”

“Fair point,” Sam admits. “I know a few witches, though, so I’m a little more open to what’s really out there.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Dean’s pretty sure he’s pouting.

Sam frowns. “Can you yell at me later? I need to get back to Jess.”

And just like that, the reason he’s here comes crashing down on Dean.

“Oh, Sammy,” he says and throws his arms around his brother. “Can we see her?”

Sam nods. “Is the genie gonna come?”

Cas offers Sam his hand. “Hello, Sam. I am Castiel.”

Sam’s eyes glaze over for a moment. “Oh, you gave that lecture on Macedonia for the UN,” he frowns. “Wait a minute…that never happened!”

He side-eyes Cas. “Oh, you are good.”

Cas smiles tightly. “I believe the phrase most commonly used is _phenomenal_ _cosmic powers._ And you are not so bad yourself. Most people would not be able to tell that I had altered reality.”

They start walking toward the hospital building and Sam tells Cas that he’s got a few discreet tattoos that help him to avoid possession and hexes and a few other nasty magical things. Dean is quietly impressed and also a little hurt that his brother didn’t tell him that there really was such a thing as magic. Then again, would he have believed him? Without evidence, probably not. A whole new world has just opened up for Dean and it’s nice that he doesn’t have to keep it from Sam.

Of course, Dean gets recognized almost as soon as they enter the hospital and both Cas and Sam swing into bodyguard mode and Dean hates himself just a little bit more, because he’s here for _Sam_ , but Dean’s mere presence turns everything into something that’s all about him.

It doesn’t take hospital security long to realize they’ve got an A-list celebrity in their midst and Dean, Sam and Cas quickly find themselves with an armed escort to the maternity ward. Sam is ushered straight into the delivery suite and told they’re going to perform an emergency caesarean, because Jess’s placenta has detached from the wall of her uterus, a condition known as placental abruption.

Dean and Cas are given a room to wait in and the hospital posts a security guard outside the door. Dean apologizes and makes a mental note to send the hospital a donation to make up for the inconvenience of his visit.  

“Your brother is impressive,” Cas says.

Dean smiles. “Yeah. My kid brother definitely got the brains in our family.”

Cas sighs and shakes his head. “He’s mentally strong and unusually resistant to my magic, even if he has been protected by a powerful witch.”

Dean thinks he might have to check out these so-called witches, make sure they don’t pose a danger to Sam. In the meantime, he has a question that’s been bugging him.

“Hey, Cas? Why did you bring your lamp but forget our clothes?”

Cas’s expression can only be described as sheepish. “I can’t travel more than thirty miles from the lamp without dragging it with me. No matter where the lamp is, when I cross that threshold, it just…follows after me, as if it’s attached to me by a rope. It’s in my jacket pocket now. I shrank it for easier carrying. The clothes,” he shrugs. “I just didn’t think. Sorry.”

Cas is sitting quite a long way away from him, respecting Dean’s personal space now that they’re in public, and Dean really wishes (but not out loud) that Cas would come and sit beside him. Maybe hold his hand. He feels pathetic even admitting it to himself, but Dean is worried sick about Jess and Sam and the baby and he kind of needs a hug right now.

Before he can summon up the courage to move closer to Cas, Sam’s bellowing voice attracts his attention.

“Where’s Dean? Where’s my brother?”

Dean hurries to the door of the room they’ve been sequestered in and stick his head out.

“Over here, Sammy.”

Sam stumbles toward him, still wearing scrubs. His face is white and he throws himself into Dean’s arms, tears streaming down his face.

“I’ve got a little girl,” he says. “They’ve put her in a special crib, but she’s okay. She’s healthy.”

Dean can barely bring himself to ask. “And Jess?”

Sam’s breath hitches. “They kicked me out. They’re having trouble stopping the bleeding. She can’t die, Dean. I can’t do this without her. I love her. I’d crash and burn without her.”

“Cas?” Dean says over Sam’s shoulder. “Could you go check on Jess, make sure she’s okay?”

Cas nods and vanishes.

“It’s gonna be alright, Sammy,” Dean keeps his arms tightly wrapped around his brother, rocking him just a little, the same soothing motion he used when Sam was little and needed comfort.

Cas flashes back in a brief moment later with a grave expression on his face.

“Jess is haemorrhaging badly,” he says. “She is unlikely to survive.”

The noise Sam makes—the helpless, wounded cry—Dean never wants to hear that sound again.

“Is there anything you can do?” he asks Cas.

Cas nods. “If the Fates are involved, I can’t bend the rules without serious repercussions. But if you _wish_ for it, I can save her life.”

“Please?” Sam says.

Dean has never heard so much anguish in one word.

If Dean wishes for this it will be his final wish and Cas will have to return to the lamp to await his next summons. He’ll be all alone in there until Dean can figure out how to break the curse and who knows how long that will take?  He might never be able to do it. Dean doesn’t want to lose Cas, but he doesn’t want to lose Jess either. Really, there is no choice to be made.

“I love you, Cas,” he says, releasing his hold on Sam and crossing to stand in front of Cas. “But I have to…”

“I know,” Cas nods. “You wouldn’t be the man _I_ love if you didn’t.” 

Dean can feel himself tearing up. “Cas,” he says. “I wish for you to save Jess’s life.”

Cas takes Dean into his arms. The words _done master_ reverberate within his mind, there is a loud boom, and then Dean is standing in the middle of the room with his arms around nothing.

The lamp is at his feet.

Dean stands for a long time, head bowed, staring at the lamp and trying not to cry. Cas is everything he wants in a man and he can’t have him, because Ares is a douchebag and Artemis is petty and it’s not fair.

“Dean?” Sam’s brow is furrowed.

Dean turns to his brother. “That was the last wish. Cas is gone now.”

Sam crosses to Dean and hugs him hard. “We’ll get him back, Dean. I promise.”

Dean hopes that’s true, but breaking the curse won’t be easy and Cas will be all alone, stuck in that lamp, until they do.

The brothers stand together, wrapped in each other’s arms, until the door is suddenly thrown open.

“We’ve stopped the bleeding,” Jess’s doctor says. “She’s stable.”

 Sam leaves with the doctor and Dean sits down and cradles the lamp. He doesn’t know if Cas can hear him, but he thanks him for saving Jess anyway and promises to do everything he can to break the curse.


	5. Chapter 5

Becoming smoke and being sucked down into his lamp is always disconcerting.

Castiel feels himself reform and then he drops onto his divan sofa with a plop. The inside of his lamp is cool and dimly lit and now that he has become accustomed to living out in the big, wide world, the hotel-suite sized room inside the lamp does seem like _itty bitty living space_.  

Castiel huffs out a dry laugh and tries to decide whether meeting Dean Winchester was a blessing or another curse. After over two millennia of living half a life, he’d gotten used to it. He’d resigned himself to existing in a twilight state, a sort of semi-suspended animation, not quite aware of the passage of time, only truly living for a few short days at a time, during which every fiber of his being had to focus on accommodating the wishes of others.

Castiel tips his head back and sighs. Artemis is always very precise with her punishments and Cas had learned the lesson she was teaching centuries ago. It had been her wish that her nymphs remain pure; he had tried to undermine her wishes, so now the sole focus of his existence is the wishes of others.

Usually, when Castiel returns to his lamp, he is restless and paces around like a caged tiger. This time, he’s just sad. He’s contemplating going to bed and consoling himself with a nice Dean-based fantasy when his lamp begins to shake and Castiel feels the _pull_ of the summons.

As Castiel begins to dissolve into smoke he has a moment of blind panic. What if centuries have passed without him noticing? Is Dean now a long-buried historical figure? He doesn’t want a new master; he wants to be Dean’s.

The first thing Castiel sees when reality reforms around him is Dean Winchester and his relief is so sharp it is almost painful.

Castiel tries to take a step toward Dean, but the tug of the summons is pulling him to the right and Castiel realizes dully that Dean is no longer his master. How could he be? Dean has had his wishes. His new master is…Castiel turns…his new master is Sam.

“Hi Cas,” Sam says with an awkward little wave. “Thank you for saving Jess’s life.”

“You are welcome, Master.”

Sam pulls the same face that Dean had pulled the first time Castiel called him _master_.

“Just call me, Sam.”

Castiel nods. “How much time has passed?”

“Only a day. Jess is good. The baby is good. My brother’s been moping.”

Castiel turns toward said brother again and suddenly finds himself with an armful of distraught Dean.

Castiel can’t help hugging him back hard, even though he really shouldn’t without his Master’s permission.

When Dean finally pulls away, Sam invites Castiel to sit in his living room and then he explains that he will not be making any wishes, that Dean explained that the wish cycle lasted a year before the wishes were forfeit and he was compelled to return to his lamp.

“Bottom line? You spend a year enjoying yourself and hanging out with Dean while we all work together to break the curse. If we haven’t broken it in a year, and you have to go back into the lamp, Jess will summon you and give us a second year to work on the curse.”

“You’re not going back into that lamp again,” Dean says firmly. “Not if I can help it. We’re Team Free Genie and that curse is going down.”

Castiel thinks he might cry. He blinks rapidly to avoid it, because Spartan soldiers do not weep. His eyes, though, seem to have other ideas. He can feel them pooling with water. Nobody has ever been this nice to him; not even before he was cursed.

“What do we do next?” he asks.

“We go and visit Jess and the baby,” Sam says. “And then you and Dean need to go back to Turkey so Dean can finish his movie.”

 

Castiel does not like travelling in the car. It is slow and confining.

 

When they arrive at the hospital, the entrance is swamped with people, all with cell phones at the ready. Cell phones are incredible devices. They enable people of the modern era to access a huge repository of information known as _online_ , to send written messages to each other, to watch funny videos of cats, and to speak to each other across vast distances. Enabling verbal communication over vast distances was initially their primary function, but Castiel has learned that these days it is the function least used. They also have cameras in them and the people milling around by the hospital door are probably hoping that Dean will visit again so that they can get him to write them a message on a piece of paper and sign his name on it, and then take a photograph with them.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean says.

Castiel waves a hand and Sam exclaims in shock as Dean’s facial features change.

They are able to move unmolested through the pack of Dean Winchester fans, who lose interest in them when they realize that Dean is not with them. Castiel changes Dean’s face back to normal just before they enter Jess’s room.

Jess smiles when she sees Sam and Dean, but when she sees Castiel her face becomes pale and pinched.

“I saw you!” she says. “I was floating above my body watching the doctors do CPR and then you came in. You pushed me back into my body and you stopped the bleeding. I heard the doctors saying it was a miracle. I thought you were an angel!”

“I am Castiel Angelidis,” Cas tells her. “And I am a genie.”

Jess raises an eyebrow and Sam holds up the lamp.

“Dean _wished_ for me to save your life.”

The explanation takes some time and Castiel has to make himself invisible and then reappear in order to really convince Jess that she hadn’t just been suffering from some sort of hallucination brought about by a near death experience and superimposing Castiel’s image into the hallucination after the fact.

Eventually, she believes, and Castiel sits beside her and takes her hand in his. “I am glad you have survived. There are so few of your people left.”

Jess frowns. “Uh, what?”

“You are a descendant of the Amazons,” Castiel tells her. “I feel the power running through your blood.”

“Amazons?” Dean says. “What? Like Wonder Woman.”

Castiel inclines his head. “The Amazons are indeed wondrous women. And much beloved of Artemis.”

“She’s the Goddess who cursed him into the lamp,” Dean stage-whispers to Sam.

Sam looks thoughtful, but before he can say anything the door into Jess’s room opens and a nurse walks in pushing a small crib.

Castiel surveys the tiny, spindly creature. She was born a little too early, but she is strong and healthy and Castiel can see that she is going to be okay.

“That’s my niece,” Dean says, his voice tinged with awe.

“Do you have a name for her?” Castiel asks.

“Not yet,” Jess replies. “We have a short list, but we wanted to meet her before we settled on a name.”

They spend some time admiring the baby and then Dean says, reluctantly, that they need to return to Turkey. He tells Castiel that he had called Rufus earlier to explain that he and Castiel had gone out for the day, as he wasn’t needed on set, so they haven’t been missed. How they are going to explain the media reports of Dean Winchester being seen in New York, Castiel doesn’t know, but Dean reassures him that the media is so full of fake news these days that the incongruity will barely cause a blip on the radar.

Castiel isn’t quite sure what a radar is or why incongruity would make it blip, but he accepts Dean’s reassurances.

They say good bye to Sam, Jess and the baby and then Castiel takes Dean in his arms and folds space, slipping into the cracks between dimensions and flying them back to Dean’s hotel suite.

He slips a memory into Rufus’s brain of having seen them come in the front door and then he and Dean walk out of the bedroom and face Rufus’s wrath for having snuck away without security.

Castiel sleeps in Dean’s bed again that night. They exchange gentle kisses and Castiel would like more, but while he remains a genie, Dean doesn’t seem convinced that he is capable of acting completely of his own free will and he refuses to go further. Castiel knows that Dean wants him; he’s well aware that Dean takes matters into his own hands (so to speak) whenever he is in the shower; and it makes Castiel feel almost ashamed of the cavalier approach to sex that he’d had back before he was cursed.

It _was_ a different era, he supposes, but is that really an excuse? Back then, anyone of lesser status was considered yours for the taking; that’s just the way it was. And if someone of similar status was resistant to your advances, it was considered no big deal to badger them until they gave in. Castiel cringes as he recalls some of his previous amorous encounters. If nothing else, being cursed to grant the wishes of others has taught him humility. Castiel turns his head and looks long and hard at the beautiful man sleeping beside him. He is truly not worthy of Dean, but from now on, he can try to be.

 

While Dean finishes filming his movie, Castiel searches museums and university libraries for information on being cursed into a magic lamp and ways to break such a curse. Unsurprisingly, there isn’t a lot of information on the subject. In fact, Castiel has come to the conclusion that short of asking Artemis herself how to break the curse, he is never going to figure it out, and he tells Dean as much.

Dean tells him not to give up hope and then he phones Sam to see how Jess and the baby are doing, as he has done every evening since they returned to Turkey.

While he’s talking to Sam, Castiel fires up Dean’s laptop computer (another miracle of the modern era) and logs on to the online chess site. He’s half way through a game with an absolute rank amateur when Dean calls his name.

“Can you pause that for a minute?” he says. “Sam has something he wants to tell us.”

Castiel pauses his game and Dean puts Sam on speaker. Jess is there too and she is the one who speaks first.

“We’ve decided on a name for the baby,” she says.

Castiel frowns. He had assumed they had already named her and he’s not sure why he needs to be included in this announcement either; he’s not family.

“Cas you saved my life,” Jess says. “Without you, our daughter would be growing up without her mom and, Dean, you didn’t have to use your last wish to save me.”

“Yes I did,” Dean interrupts.

“What we’re trying to say,” Sam jumps in, “is that we wanted to honor you both, so we’ve named our daughter Angela Deanna Mary Winchester. Angela is in honor of your surname, Cas.”

For the second time since he met these people, Castiel finds himself close to tears.

“Thank you,” he says. “I am indeed very honored.”

Even if they never break the curse; even if he goes back into his lamp and never comes out again, his life has some meaning in the real world because there is a little girl named after him and people who will remember him when he’s gone.

Castiel has to excuse himself and flee into the bathroom, because Spartan soldiers do not cry and they certainly do not cry in front of others.

 

The day after Castiel learns that baby Angela has been named in his honor is the final day of location filming for the movie. Afterward, there is a big dinner at a fancy restaurant for all of the cast and crew and Dean invites Castiel to attend as his guest.  

Dean dresses in a black suit with a white shirt and a black bow tie and he suggests that Castiel might like to replicate something similar for himself, which he does.

Dean grins when he sees Castiel in the suit. “Dude,” he says. “You look amazing.”

“So do you.”

Rufus accompanies them to the dinner, but doesn’t eat with them, because he’s working.

The food at the restaurant is extremely good and Castiel eats a lot. He also drinks a lot of champagne, but the Jinn metabolize poisons and drugs quickly and easily and it would take an awful lot of alcohol for Castiel to get drunk. He’d probably have to drink an entire liquor store or something.

Dean also has a lot to drink and is much more publicly affectionate than he usually is. Castiel can see some of the cast and crew side-eyeing the two of them, some with smiles and some with frowns. There are people taking photographs too, and not just with their phones. There are people hanging around who have large cameras. Pam tells Castiel that they are called ‘paparazzi’ and it’s their job to get the most salacious photographs they can of any celebrities.

Castiel can tell by her tone that she doesn’t think much of the paparazzi.

“So,” Pam says to him quietly, when Dean is engaged in a discussion with Marv the Director about publicity. “You and Dean, huh?”

Castiel frowns. “Me and Dean what?”

“You’re,” Pam makes a hand gesture that Castiel doesn’t understand.

“You’re together?” she says finally.

“Are you asking if we’re lovers?” Castiel asks her.

And that gets Dean’s attention. His head whips around and he gives Pam an assessing look.

“We’re just friends,” Dean says. “For now.”

For a brief moment Pam looks surprised, and then she smiles. “Good for you,” she says.

That night, when they finally fall into bed, they do more than just kiss, touching each other through the material of their briefs, stroking each other with hesitant hands and getting each other off with cautious, tentative touches. 

In the morning, Dean apologizes and it takes a lot of reassurance from Castiel to convince him that he didn’t do anything wrong.

“Dean,” he says finally. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I had sex? Last time I was out of my lamp it was the 1800s. I _like_ sex, Dean. And you are no longer my master.”

And maybe Castiel’s assertion would have led to something, except that Rufus knocks on the bedroom door and asks Dean if he’s seen the news.

The ‘news’ is that every newspaper and website that specializes in celebrity gossip is speculating about Dean’s sexuality and asking questions about Castiel. There are a lot of photographs from last night and Castiel can see the very obvious love in both of their eyes whenever they’re looking at each other. Castiel had known that Dean was famous, but this has driven home to him just how famous Dean really is. Back when Castiel was still living a (mostly) human life, actors were honoured and respected, but the level of worship modern society seems to afford them, was once reserved only for the Gods. It is baffling.

A website called Perez Hilton is urging Dean to ‘come out’ and another website called E-Online is ‘spilling the beans’ on an affair Dean supposedly had with a male co-star several years ago.

Dean snorts, shakes his head, and goes to take a shower.

Castiel watches him go and then turns to see Rufus looking at him thoughtfully.

“I sure hope you’re ready for this,” Rufus says. “Coz it could get ugly.”

“Truthfully,” Castiel says, “I am not sure what to expect. But Dean will always have my love and support.”

Rufus nods. “Let’s hope that’s enough.”

 

Dean gets a lot of phone calls that day, some he takes, but most he ignores. He shuts himself in the bathroom for a long conversation with Sam and after that he simply switches his cell phone off altogether.

They don’t leave their hotel room all day, ordering in room service for every meal.

The next day, they head to the airport so that they may fly back to America. Castiel has created a booking and an airline ticket for himself so that he can travel with Dean.    

The paparazzi are on them from the moment they leave the hotel. They have cameras and microphones shoved into their faces as they get into the limousine and again when they get out at the airport. Dean is wearing his baseball cap and his dark sunglasses and he keeps his head down and doesn’t respond to any of the questions shouted at him. Castiel follows his lead.

Finally, when they are safely tucked away from prying eyes in first class, Castiel asks Dean if he is alright.

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Sorry I’ve been a bit…distant. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

He reaches in between the seats and takes hold of Cas’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Which, of course, is when the flight attendant for the first class section walks in. She looks at Dean and Cas’s joined hands and her eyes widen.

“Do you want me to…” Castiel completes the sentence by making the hand gesture that usually accompanies his magic, knowing that Dean will understand what he’s offering.

Dean shakes his head. “No, it’s okay.”

He turns to the flight attendant and gives her his million watt movie star smile. Castiel watches as she melts before his eyes.

“Hi,” Dean looks at her name tag, “Nola. I’m Dean. And flying scares the crap outta me.”

Nola’s eyes widen again. “Oh,” she says. “Is that why…?” she nods at where Dean is still holding Castiel’s hand.

Dean’s smile dims a little. “No,” he says. “That’s because we’re dating.”

Nola’s eyes become impossibly large and then she smiles, a warm, genuine smile.

“Congratulations,” she says. “I hope it all works out.”

 

Castiel soon discovers that he is not a fan of travelling by airplane either. He is able to reassure Dean that if the plane is in danger of crashing, he will be able to fly them to safety, and that cheers Dean up a great deal. Dean’s gratitude warms Castiel’s heart, but it doesn’t make the journey any less slow and tedious.

To kill the time, Castiel watches movies. Only one of them has Dean in it. Dean sleeps a little and Castiel watches him, which Dean says is creepy. 

Finally, _finally_ , they land.

Castiel suspects that things will be very different now that they are home and no longer filming on location. He wonders if the media is still interested in who Dean is dating. Surely their interest in such a thing can’t last more than a day or two?


	6. Chapter 6

There’s a side gate for celebrities, but Dean decides he’s not going to use it. He sends the studio gofer—who has their luggage trolley—out that way; and then he takes hold of Cas’s hand and looks at Rufus.

“You sure about this, son?” Rufus asks.

Dean nods. “Yeah. I’m terrified it’s all gonna blow up in my face, but…I’ve got someone worth taking a stand for now and…I just wanna rip the Band-Aid off, you know?”

He turns to Cas. “You ready?”

Cas nods and Dean really hopes he understands the level of scrutiny he’s letting himself in for. Still, if things go badly, he can probably get Cas to mind-whammy everyone and forget all about it. Could Cas do that? Mind-whammy the entire world?

The doors into the arrivals area slide open and Dean strides out with Cas by his side.

There’s a moment of almost-silence when people see that Dean and Cas are holding hands and it makes the ensuing hubbub and rapid flashing of cameras seem even louder and brighter.

_“Dean! Dean! Are you gay, Dean?”_

_“Is he your boyfriend, Dean?”_

_“Are you gonna come out publicly?”_

_“Would you like to make a statement?’_

Dean stops. He turns to face the media throng.

“Cas and I have been friends for a while,” he says. “We’re now dating. Cas is not involved in the movie industry. He’s not a celebrity. I ask that you respect his privacy. I will issue a press release later, but right now, I’ve just gotten off a long haul flight and I want to get home.”

Rufus, meanwhile has called Dean’s driver, Paul, and as soon as Dean sees Baby pull up out the front he excuses himself to the media and fights his way across to his beloved car.

The studio gofer appears and loads their bags into the trunk and Paul gets out of the driver’s seat and hands Dean the keys. Rufus sits beside him and Cas and Paul sit in the back and Dean pulls out slowly and carefully. Some of the paps follow him, but most don’t.

“Cas? Can you do anything?”

Cas makes a subtle gesture and the following paparazzi all inexplicably turn off the expressway at the first exit.

Dean told the reporters that he wanted to get home, but he is not, in fact, planning to go home. He’s going to Sam’s place instead. It’s not hiding; not exactly. Jess and Angie are home now and he wants to see them. And also, coming out publicly is a big deal. He needs his brother’s support. And his help to draft the press release. And his advice on how to deal with his agent and the head of the studio, both of whom are pissed at him.

Dean drops Paul and Rufus off first and then heads to Sam’s. He’s had a key to Sam’s house since forever, so when he and Cas get there, they simply let themselves in. 

They find Sam in the dining room with a very long scroll draped over the entire length of the dining table.

“What is that?” Dean says.

Sam’s face lights up when he sees Dean. “Hey man,” he gets up and crosses to where his brother is standing. “Welcome home. Way to blow up the internet. How are you holding up?”

Cas’s eyes widen. “The internet has blown up? Have we lost all of the information it contained?”

Sam blinks. “It’s just an expression. It means that a lot of people are talking about you and Dean online.”

“Oh.”

Castiel wanders toward the scroll on the table while Dean explains to his brother that he’s planning to issue a press release and he’d like to do an interview too, he just has to decide who with.

“Uh, Cas?” Sam says. “Let’s go and sit in the living room. It’s a lot more comfortable.”

Cas, though, is standing transfixed, staring at the scroll on the table.

Dean crosses to stand beside him and puts a hand to his shoulder. “You okay, Cas?”

Castiel turns to face Sam. “Where did you get this?”

Sam rubs a hand over his mouth and clears his throat. “It’s, uh, a funny story actually.”

Cas tilts his head and looks expectantly at Sam.

“Okay. Don’t be mad.”

Don’t be mad? Dean frowns. So far, he’s not liking this explanation and Cas is very tense beside him, obviously deeply concerned.

Sam takes a deep breath. “So,” he says. “Jess and Angie were still in the hospital. I was, you know, home alone. I’d had a few drinks. And Dean called. He said you didn’t think you’d be able to figure out how to break the curse unless you asked Artemis herself,” Sam swallows. “So I did.”

Dean’s frown deepens. “You did what?”

“Asked Artemis.”

Dean stares at this little brother. “You asked Artemis?”

Sam nods.

“As in _Artemis_? The Goddess?”

Sam nods again.  “My friend Rowena—she’s one of the witches I mentioned knowing—she came and helped me with the summons. Artemis wasn’t too impressed by Rowena’s lack of purity, but Rowena is, uh, very persuasive, so Artemis decided not to smite us right away, even though I apparently have ‘tainted blood’, whatever that means,” Sam bites at his bottom lip. “I may have played the ‘my wife’s an Amazon’ card to get into Artemis’s good books,” he shrugs. “Either way, she gave me the standard Terms & Conditions for her curses and I’ve been going over them.”

Dean grins and punches his little brother on the arm. “Look at you, going all lawyer on Artemis’s ass!”

Cas collapses rather heavily onto one of the dining chairs. Dean goes and puts his hands on Cas’s shoulders.

“You okay?”

Cas takes a very obvious deep breath. “I don’t know.” He looks up at Sam. “Is there any way out of the curse?”

Sam nods. “I think so. There’s a, I guess you’d call it a soulmate clause. If someone believes that you are their soulmate, they can petition Artemis for the return of your soul and your freedom from the lamp.”

“Awesome!” Dean grins brightly. “Lay it on me, Sam. What do I gotta do?”

Cas is on his feet immediately. “No, Dean,” he says. “I can’t let you do this. Tangling with the gods is too dangerous.” 

Dean raises an eyebrow. “You can’t _let_ me? Cas…I know you’re just worried about me, but I’m doing this and unless you’re planning on overriding _my_ wishes, you can’t stop me.”

Castiel looks utterly stricken at that and he sags visibly. “I’m not worthy of you, Dean. You shouldn’t risk yourself.”

Dean shrugs. “My choice.”

Castiel nods glumly.

Sam phones his witch friend Rowena and the two of them huddle away in the kitchen, preparing the spell to summon Artemis.

Castiel and Dean take it in turns cuddling baby Angie so that Jess can get some more sleep. 

“You’re good with her,” Dean tells Cas, who is rocking the baby in his arms.

Castiel smiles softly. “I had nieces and nephews. They were only tiny when I was cursed,” his smile turns sad. “And now they have been dust for millennia,” he leans down and presses a light kiss against the baby’s head. “You are also good with Angela.”

“Yeah, well, Lisa had a niece,” Dean tugs at his ear. “Also…I told you my mom died when I was a kid, right?”

Cas nods.

“Yeah, so Sammy was only a baby. And our dad…he didn’t cope too well. It sort of became my job to look after Sam.”

Dean doesn’t go into details. His dad was a good man, but the murder of his wife gutted him and Dean was left to pick up the pieces, to try to create _home_ for his little brother, that feeling of warmth and love and safety that he could barely remember himself. He hadn’t really cared about school, because making sure his dad stayed sober enough to work, that their bills got paid and that there was dinner on the table every night just seemed more important. The only thing he’d really loved about school was Drama Club; it gave him an escape, a way to pretend he was somebody else, just for a while. He made sure Sam kept his grades up, though.   

“I imagine your father is very proud of you,” Cas says.

Dean shrugs. “Eh, he wasn’t too impressed by the modelling, but it wasn’t so bad when I started getting parts in action movies.”

“And now that you are very famous?”

Dean sighs. “My dad was killed in the line of duty eight years ago,” which is also when Dean and Sam found out that they had a half-brother, Adam; he figures that’s a story for another time though. “I like to think Dad’d be proud of me, but I’ve got a sneaking suspicion he would’ve had a hard time with the, you know, the whole _gay_ thing.”

Cas looks like he wants to say something, but before he can do so, Jess comes and takes Angie off Cas and tells them that Sam is ready for them in the kitchen.

There’s a cauldron sitting on Sam and Jess’s stove and Rowena chants over it while throwing various ingredients into it. The final ingredient, a purple liquid of some sort, causes a loud boom, and a cloud of smoke billows from the cauldron.

When the air clears there is a statuesque and stately woman standing haughtily in the kitchen. She glances around, distinctly unimpressed.  

“You again?” she says when her eyes light on Sam.

“Thank you for coming, Artemis,” Sam says. “This is my wife Jess and our daughter Angela.”

Artemis’s eyes widen. “You are indeed a descendant of the Amazons,” she places a hand on Angela’s head and murmurs a blessing. “I am not just the Goddess of the Hunt,” she says, “I am also the Goddess of Childbirth. Care well for your little one, she will do great things.”

She turns then and her eyes light on Castiel. “You!” she says. “I cursed you!”

“Yeah you did,” Dean says. “And my brother summoned you because I wanna talk to you about that.”

Artemis prowls toward Dean with all the gracefulness of a lioness. “Ooh,” she says to Dean. “ _You_ are interesting. Your soul is bright and shiny. So very different to your brother’s, which is pure and good, but tainted,” she shakes her head. “You have both been marked by the Fates, but in this place, at this time, your destiny has been forestalled. You are lucky. Your lives could have been very different.”

Dean shudders and doesn’t even try to pretend that he’s not creeped out by her words.

“There’s a soulmate clause in your T&Cs,” he tells her. “And Cas…he’s mine. So how do I get his soul released? How do I get him freed from the lamp?”

Artemis’s smile is unsettling. “Oh, that’s easy enough.” She waves a hand and a vial containing a brightly shimmering pearlescent liquid appears in the air before her.

“That is Castiel’s soul,” she says.

Dean reaches for it.

“Stop!” Artemis commands and Dean freezes.

“If you touch that, you must hold onto it until I have finished draining the divine grace from Castiel. The moment the last bit of grace leaves him, you must release the vial’s stopper and hold the vial against Castiel’s heart until his soul pours itself back into him. If you drop the vial, Castiel’s soul will be lost for good and he will die.”

“Piece of cake,” Dean says.

“I should warn you,” Artemis says darkly, “that a human soul burns bright and hot. Holding it is going to hurt you, Dean Winchester. Is he really important enough to you that you are prepared to suffer terrible pain for him? Not even Ares was willing to take the risk and it is considerably less painful for a God to handle a soul.”

Dean lifts his chin. “Ares is an ass. And yeah, Cas is really that important to me. I can do this.”

Artemis chuckles. “The last human who told me that dropped the vial after ten seconds.”

Dean turns to Castiel. “I can do this,” he says. “But it’s your life on the line, so it’s your choice.”

Castiel has been staring, mesmerized, at the vial. Now he looks up at Dean and meets his eyes.

“Do it,” Castiel says. “I have faith in you.”

Slowly, tentatively, Dean reaches out and grasps the vial, and _holy shit_ , does it burn!

Dean clasps it firmly, but holding it is torture itself. His hand is surrounded by a bright brilliant light and he can’t see it anymore, but he can feel the skin of his palm blistering and peeling, can feel his blood boiling and his bones blackening. Sweat breaks out on his face, tears run down his cheeks, and Dean grits his teeth to keep himself from screaming. It _hurts_! Oh _fuck_ , it hurts!   

“The last of the grace has gone,” Artemis says and Dean pulls out the stopper, presses the vial against Castiel’s chest and holds it there. The soul pours from the vial and if Dean had thought it was hot before, that’s nothing compared to the scalding, searing burn of it now. Dean tries hard to stay silent, but the agony is too much and he can hear himself whimpering. His hand is surely nothing but a burnt and blackened stump now, his career is probably over, but it’s worth it. Cas is worth it.

The pain stops as suddenly as it had started.

“Dean?” Cas say. “It’s over.”

Dean feels a gentle hand cup his cheek and he leans into the touch.

“Open your eyes, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t want to see what’s left of his hand. He can’t even feel it anymore, so all the nerve endings must be dead.

“Dean? Please, sweetheart. I need to see your beautiful green eyes.”

Dean opens his eyes and Castiel smiles at him. The look of wonder and love and gratitude on Cas’s face is something that Dean will never forget.  “You did it. You saved me. You are so brave.”

Dean smiles and, because Cas thinks he’s brave, he risks a look at his hand.

It’s completely untouched.

Dean’s mouth falls open in shock and he flexes his hand in wonder.

“You did well,” Artemis says with a smile. “So few are worthy. I hope the two of you will be very happy together and I hope you,” she turns to Castiel, “have learned your lesson.”

She vanishes abruptly and a moment later, so does Castiel’s lamp.

Cas looks like he might cry and Dean watches as the former Genie realizes that he now has a future; a _real_ life where _his_ wishes count.  

“Well,” says Rowena, in a rich Scottish brogue. “That was a hoot and a half. I propose we break out the champagne and drink a toast to new beginnings.”

Dean thinks that sounds like a pretty good idea.

Much, much later a slightly tipsy Dean drags Castiel upstairs to the spare bedroom he always uses when he stays with Sam and Jess.

“You’re free now, Cas,” he says. “You can go anywhere you want, do anything _you_ wish. You don’t have to stay with me, not if you don’t want to.”

“Shh,” Castiel says, taking Dean’s head in his hands and kissing him softly. “No matter what anyone says, you’ll always be a prince to me.”

Dean laughs out loud. “Did you just quote Aladdin? Cas…you hated that movie!”

Cas grins. “Yeah, but I love you. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to show you just how much.”

Dean swallows. “Your wish is my command,” he says with a bow.

“Then I wish for you to take all your clothes off.”

Dean licks his lips. “You’re only getting three wishes, you know, so make sure you make the most of them.”

Castiel’s only answer is to start stripping off his own clothes, so Dean follows his lead and gets naked as fast as humanly possible.

“What do you wish next, Master?” he says cheekily.

Cas laughs. “Master, hey? I could get used to that.”

“There’s lube and condoms in the top drawer of the nightstand,” Dean says helpfully.

Cas raises a stern eyebrow. “You trying to rush me?”

Dean shrugs. “You’re the one who hasn’t been laid in centuries. Take your time.”

“Thank you,” Cas says. “I will.”

He pulls Dean to him and kisses him very thoroughly.

“Okay, bed, now,” Dean says when they finally break apart, and somehow, without letting go of each other, they manage to get themselves sprawled out on the bed, with Cas lying on top of Dean, in between Dean’s spread legs.

Cas kisses him again, licking his way into Dean’s mouth and rutting against him until they’re both hard and leaking. When Cas eventually pulls away, his eyes are completely lust blown.

“I want to fuck you,” he says. “Can I?”

“Is that an official wish?” Dean asks impishly.

Cas nods.

“Then, yes. How do you want me?”

Castiel swears reverentially and climbs off Dean. “Turn over,” he says, “ass in the air.”

Dean complies with a cheeky _yes master_ , which earns him a slap on the ass the minute it’s up in the air. He yelps and then laughs at Cas’s self-satisfied smirk.

The laughter dies when Cas reaches for the condoms and the Astro-glide. The last time Dean bottomed he’d been twenty-two years old, his dad had just died and he’d been very, very drunk. Drunk enough to try something he’d always wanted to try, but had never been brave enough to risk. He’s not that drunk now; tipsy sure, but it’s Cas’s love that’s making him feel brave.

Castiel opens him up slowly and carefully, taking his time, stroking Dean’s cock while he does it and taking him right to the edge again and again, until Dean is begging abjectly for Cas to just fuck him already.

When he finally does, Cas slides into him slow and easy and the pressure is so good, Dean nearly comes on the spot. As it is, he doesn’t last long, but he manages to hold off until Cas wraps a hand around his cock and jerks him just right. Cas follows him over the edge shortly after and they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Dean wakes up the same way he fell asleep; with Cas’s arms wrapped tightly around him and a pleasant ache in his ass. He frowns. Why isn’t he sticky? If he remembers rightly, they fell asleep before they cleaned up. He puts the question to Cas who smirks at him.

“I may not have phenomenal cosmic powers anymore, but I am still _Jinn_.”

He conjures Dean a coffee. “Would you like to spend the day in bed? I believe I still have one more wish to use.”

Dean bites at his bottom lip. “Maybe not the _whole_ day,” he says. “I’ve got a press release to write. And a boyfriend to introduce to my fans.”

Cas responds by kissing him thoroughly. “I like the sound of that,” he says.

Dean winks. “Me too, In fact, I couldn’t _wish_ for anything better.”

_The End._

 

 

**_Original Inspiration picture:_ **

**__ **

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always to my beta reader, Endlessevelina and to the mods who run the SPN Reversebang, one of my favourite challenges! This year, I was lucky enough to pick up some fabulous art by noxsoulmate, who was fabulous to work with, a great cheerleader and a wonderful alpha reader too! Thank you so much for everything, Nox!!!


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